


a late night conversation

by Lie Ren (captifate)



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 19:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3262394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captifate/pseuds/Lie%20Ren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A snippet about how two not-quite-friends with benefits start dangerously spiraling into something more. Choice words are exchanged, perhaps for the better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a late night conversation

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting from my Tumblr for archival purposes.

No matter how low the moon hung in the night sky, someone could always be found chattering aimlessly outside Koujaku’s window. Not that it came as a surprise. Koujaku lived in one of the more densely populated neighborhoods where everyone knew one another. It fit his personality.

Noiz didn’t mind that kind of background noise, even though he preferred static feeds over punctuated voices. The dead hum of an obsolete television set beckoned for him in a way that idle laughter couldn’t. He thoroughly enjoyed the dead buzz of a mismatched channel because unlike people, that was a challenge he could tackle.

Yet there he laid, bearing half of his body (and perhaps a sliver of his soul) before a man he once thought easy to read. Anyone who spent as much time as Koujaku fretting over the well-being of others had to be simple-minded. Oh, but how he’d been proven wrong. There was nothing simple in the way Koujaku behaved, both around him and around others. Noiz just couldn’t figure him out.

The way Koujaku’s eyes bore into his own made Noiz squirm in his skin, and for a split second, he wondered if that was what it felt like to lay beneath the needle. Tingling, pricking. Piercing.

Well, whatever the case was, Noiz didn’t want to ask.

He lifted a languid hand to the other man’s cheek, put little effort into being the tender lover, and caught Koujaku off guard as he lunged into a hungry kiss. Teeth clacked together in a clumsy rush, but neither Noiz nor Koujaku cared to break away. Whatever he lacked in technique, Noiz made up for with enthusiasm.

Koujaku almost found that endearing. Almost.

Against the sloppy kiss, Noiz whispered, “You’re wearing too much.” 

Koujaku snorted in mild amusement which suggested that he might have agreed. 

Noiz eased off and put some space between them. His eyes flew down and up, admiring Koujaku’s figure. 

Koujaku, being more perceptive than he was often given credit for, noted that Noiz liked to pause and stare where the fabric of his kimono pooled the most. “You can touch.”

Noiz’s fingers groped for his sleeves, jumped to his arms, and clasped at his shoulders, desperate for any form of contact. And the more he touched, the more disheveled Koujaku’s clothing became. At the first peek of decorated skin, Noiz curiously ran his thumb over it.

Koujaku tensed. He knew that this time would come sooner or later. Last week’s “I’ve become fond of you” had a way of becoming tonight’s “I need to feel you” in hushed whispers. And he wouldn’t deny that the cold of the night air felt good against his now bare shoulder.

But before his sleeve sunk any further into the darkness that surrounded him and his newfound lover, Koujaku felt Noiz’s lips pursing around his own, suckling at them in a manner that could only be described as coaxing. And he allowed himself to be coaxed, to be strung along. He wouldn’t let himself believe otherwise because lasting relationships don’t start behind bedroom doors and excuses.

As Noiz nipped and played with his unyielding mouth, Koujaku thought of the frantic message he had sent Aoba. A “something else came up” wouldn’t have placated anyone else, but his Coil hadn’t buzzed in the past three hours. Thus, Koujaku was left to ask the questions: What was he doing here? Why was he letting this happen? Wasn’t he just lonely?

Noiz answered without being asked, “I’m surprised that you haven’t pushed me away yet.”

Koujaku retorted without even thinking, “I didn’t think I was your type.”

"Bold, handsome, and adaptable… what’s not to like?"

Koujaku felt his face heat up and hated how easily he had been reduced to a blushing schoolgirl. “Those are some cheap words…” With a wounded pride, he shoved Noiz against the futon and loomed over him. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

Noiz met his violent unrestrained gaze as the corners of his lips began to twitch. “I’ve become fond of you,” he echoed.

At that, Koujaku sobered. He began to retreat, both physically and into himself, with a sheepish look, until Noiz caught him by the arm and froze him with a cool tone, “Do you remember how much it hurt when you got those?”

Koujaku turned his head to stare back at his flesh, marred by both heated disputes and a tragic past. He smiled bitterly and dared to ask, “What exactly are you referring to?”

"The tattoos," - Noiz brushed the pads of his fingers against beveled skin - "But I might as well ask about the scars, too."

It should have felt weird having someone touch his old wounds, especially someone who didn’t care for their origins. Koujaku scowled at the obsessive Rhymer and considered ignoring his request. It was, after all, the kind of emotional intimacy they had yet to breach. “That’s a weird thing to be curious over.”

"Is it really?" Noiz laid beneath him motionlessly, save for the rise and fall of his chest.

"In a brawl," Koujaku began, "I usually don’t feel a thing. The adrenaline kicks in and all I can think about is getting out in one piece. Sure, it stings to clean up the cuts, but some women find scars attractive. I guess you could say I’m playing up to those kinds of fantasies."

Noiz watched Koujaku intently as he mulled over those words. “The tattoos, then?”

Silence followed.

"You never asked for my opinion, but I’m going to cram it down your throat anyway." Noiz chuckled at the way Koujaku’s nose wrinkled. "You can’t stand the fact that they’re beautiful. If it was something hideous, then you could hate them with all your heart. But they’re pleasing to the eye and they complement your body. They’re an undeniable part of you. And that… must be painful."

There were a lot of things Koujaku could have said in response to that, but the only thing he could choke out was, “What would you know? You’re just a damn kid.”

"Worse than that." Noiz nudged his arm until Koujaku’s grip upon him slackened and traced his fingers over the blooming design. "I’m a liability."

"You sure as hell are." Koujaku shivered against his touch. "And now I’m responsible for you, am I?"

Noiz sat up and crawled into Koujaku’s lap, straddling the man’s waist as he kissed at inked mistakes. Whatever suffering his body could not feel, his mind was free to comprehend: “Yeah. But at least you won’t be lonely. I won’t let you suffer that.”


End file.
